


rewind, remix, start over (and over)

by subliminally



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Groundhog Day, M/M, No Metaverse (Persona 5), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Time Loop, a bank robbery, a lot of snark, irresponsible treatment of gas stations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subliminally/pseuds/subliminally
Summary: tiny gremlin:i wish your name had an l in it so i could make a joke abt you collecting l’s but some things just aren’t meant to beor: akira can't stop having terrible mondays. groundhog day au.





	1. DAY ONE

**Author's Note:**

> this is very self indulgent so i apologise in advance. unbeta'd

Akira awakens to a telltale lurching at the corner of his bed. Groaning before he’s even fully conscious, he drags himself upright and watches the devastation on his sheets.

“Morgana,” he whines, and kicks uselessly at where the damn cat is hacking, but he just looks back up at Akira with a pitiful expression and lets out the biggest hairball that he’s ever seen. Quite possibly the biggest hairball that’s _ever_ been seen. Akira would be impressed if it was literally anywhere besides his bed.

With his mission accomplished, Morgana doesn’t even stay around for the aftermath; he hops right off of Akira’s bed and goes downstairs, probably to rub himself against Sojiro’s legs until he gets a plate of tuna. Akira, with growing disgust, removes himself from the tangle of blankets —

And his foot catches on a previously unknown blanket fold, sending him plummeting head-first onto the floor with an awful bang.

“The hell are you doing up there, kid?” Sojiro calls from the foot of the staircase.

Hanging uncomfortably by his thighs and nursing what he hopes isn’t a concussion, it looks like.

“Oh, you know. Just hanging out.”

“Well hang out quieter,” Sojiro snaps. “There are customers. And get outta bed before you’re late for school, it’s already eight o’clock. I’ll never understand how you sleep so damn much.”

Sojiro walks away (probably, Akira can’t actually see him to verify) with enough pointedness to make it clear that he’s actually annoyed and not playing it up for… whatever reason, like he usually does.

 _“Fuck.”_ Akira draws out, with feeling.

Five minutes into Monday and Akira already wants a do-over.

 

* * *

  

Akira misses his train and ends up late to class because of course he does. He bears Kawakami-sensei’s glare with a resigned sort of shame and shuffles into his seat, avoiding Ann’s questioning look.

Today sucks. He doesn’t have clean sheets, and now there’s going to be a stain from where Morgana threw up because he didn’t have time to wash them, so he’ll either have to buy new ones or live with the nasty stained ones until he gets sent back to Inaba.

_“What d’you think he was doing?”_

_“I bet he was —”_

Nope. Akira makes a point to drop his textbook just a little bit too hard on his desk, which puts a rather abrupt end to the gossip around him. He smiles to himself in the silence; it’s the little things.

He’s barely figured out where they’re supposed to be in the lesson when his phone vibrates.

 

**makogoro said do your homework (7 people)**

**Ann:** upd8!! akira finally showed up

 **Ryuji:** WHERE TF WERE U BRO

 **Makoto:** Please stop texting in class!

 **Goro:** I must agree with Makoto. Is it too much to ask for you to keep your heads down?

 **Goro:** Though Akira, what happened? You aren’t the sort of person to arrive to school late.

 **Yusuke:** The chat is quite lively this morning. Hello, everyone.

 **Futaba:** not that i'm not curious bc i REALLY am but are we hanging out after school?

 **Futaba:** i have a raid at 19:00 at the latest and if i miss it then that's one less chance to get the mount that i want

 **Futaba:** and if i don't get it then i'm gonna be really mad!!!! ٩(๑`^´๑)۶

 

He absolutely does not have the energy for this, as much as he loves his friends.

 

 **Akira:** yeah. after school. we'll talk then.

 

"Kurusu." Kawakami-sensei calls, and Akira sends a prayer out for himself. Mercy is all he asks for, the smallest bit of mercy. "Which group is Hydrogen located in?"

Hell. "Uh..." He says the first thing he can think of, hoping against hope that it'll stick. "The noble gases."

Chalk goes soaring through her hand, and Kawakami-sensei has to be pretty frustrated if she's throwing chalk at him. It hits Akira straight in the forehead before he can avoid it and makes his headache even worse, as if _that_ was something he desperately needed. Akira's one misfortune away from throwing himself out of the window.

"No. You could at least _try_ to pay attention, you know."

“Sorry, sensei.”

Though thoroughly chastised, he still can't pay attention for the rest of the day. His head hurts too much.

 

* * *

 

In the gap between everyone finishing up their after-school obligations and showing up to Leblanc, Akira takes the time to wash his sheets. They smell nice afterwards, but just as predicted, a lovely stain has spawned where the hairball once rested. Great. He puts them back on with no small level of hate and tries to cover the mark with a spare blanket, to mild success.

“Yo, ‘Kira! We brought takeout!”

Ryuji comes upstairs first, waving several bags of food like the prizes that they are. Right behind him are Ann and Yusuke, both of them already eating bags of chips like they’re about to starve. They tried to out-eat the two of them once, at a buffet. Akira knows Ryuji has nightmares about it sometimes; he’s asked.

“Mona was meowing at my window, so I brought him back on my way here,” Futaba adds, cradling a smug Morgana the same way Akira thinks you’re supposed to hold a baby.

The table is pulled out with some chairs before Akira can say anything about it, but he does take a moment to point accusingly at Morgana, the little shit.

“Morgana’s banned from my room. He threw up a hairball on my sheets this morning and I still haven’t forgiven him for it. Where’s Goro? The messages went to the big group chat, right?” It takes a lot of careful effort to keep the big group chat and the Phantom Thieves group chat separate. Part of Akira is just waiting for the day they finally slip up.

“Yeah, but we uninvited him after,” Ryuji says, so at least that day isn’t today, and passes the food around. Akira looks inside his portion to find a burger and fries. Nice. “Told him Makoto made you cancel so you’d study. We gotta talk Phantom Thief business, dude! No way a cop could be here, I don’t care that he’s your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Akira replies, long-suffering.

“And it doesn’t matter what you’re accusing him of! Mona’s our mascot, so he’s not going anywhere,” Futaba declares, blatantly ignoring what Akira just said. “He’d never do anything like that anyway. Right, Mona Mona?”

Morgana hisses when Futaba ruffles his fur too roughly and dashes away, hopping on top of Akira’s shelf and watching them from above. Futaba sticks her tongue out at him and goes back to her phone.

“He looks kinda creepy like that,” Ann says slowly, squinting at him, but all he does is loaf. “Aw… Sorry Mona, I take it back.”

“Anyway,” Makoto starts with all the weight of someone trying to rally a bunch of excitable children on a field trip. It’s a wonder that she likes them, but then again, Makoto was the one to suggest the eating contest in the first place, so maybe it’s not all that far-fetched.

“Has anyone heard anything recently about a new target?”

There’s a series of shrugs and headshakes through bites of food. “Sucks that the cops caught up to Okumura,” Ryuji complains. “He woulda been the perfect guy to take down. I mean, treatin’ his employees like slaves? Signin’ off on hits against his competition? The guy’s a real asshole.”

“Oh wow, Okumura did all that?” Ann asks.

“Yeah, they got him this morning, I heard about it durin’ lunch.”

Yusuke visibly reenters himself into the conversation after inhaling a burger. Akira wonders, not for the first time, what it’s like in his head. Probably really interesting; Yusuke’s an interesting guy even if other people think he’s weird. Talking to him always gives Akira a new perspective on things.

“I understand it isn’t a _large_ target, but there’s a student at Kosei that I believe would benefit from our assistance. She’s reserved during school hours, but she practises at Kanda Church some nights. There are rumours that her mother is treating her poorly; forcing her into the life of an idol, paying off her competitors during shogi matches, so on.”

“That’s awful.” Ann frowns and taps her nails against the table. “It’s no Okumura, but nobody should have their future decided for them like that. We shouldn’t ignore it just because she’s not famous.”

Akira nods and watches everyone else signal their agreements. “Alright, it’s unanimous then. We’ll need more information from her first, something to make sure that they aren’t just rumours. Makoto, are you okay with visiting her sometime soon?”

“Me?” Makoto asks. She looks caught off-guard, her own burger hanging limply in her hands, and look — Akira knows it’s usually _his_ thing to scope out potential targets, he has the gift of gab and a penchant for levelling with just about anyone he comes across, but this sounds like a task better suited to Makoto.

“Well, you’re our strategist and shogi requires a lot of strategy, right?” Futaba chimes in, pausing to shovel some fries into her mouth. “And Akira doesn’t look like a creep or anything, but it’s still pretty weird for a guy to come up to a girl and try to be buddy-buddy with her. It’d be way better if you did it, Makoto.”

“Hey wait, I thought you were on an organic thing,” Ryuji frowns at her. “We got you a salad and everything!”

“Don’t be stupid, Ryuji. Today’s my cheat day, which means I’m going to eat as many fries as it takes to knock me into a food coma.”

“If everyone thinks it’s the best course of action,” Makoto says, apparently over her surprise. “Then I’ll be happy to talk to her. It’s Kanda Church, correct?”

Yusuke nods and tries to swipe a discarded onion from Akira’s plate. Akira shrugs and lets him. “Her name is Togo Hifumi. I believe she only practises there at night, but I don’t know for certain.”

Some shuffling into her bag reveals Makoto’s journal. It’s been unofficially-officially dedicated to Phantom Thief information after Makoto complained about their lack of concrete direction and plans of action — which, hey, none of them are planners. Akira and Ryuji’s criminal records speak for themselves, and Akira’s the unanimously declared _leader_ of this ragtag group, so clearly the other three aren’t too great at the whole foresight thing either.

The point is, Akira had jokingly offered to write everything down in his probation diary (which was funny no matter how many times Ann told him that making light of his shitty situation wasn’t the same as coping) and then Makoto had gotten the look in her eyes that she always gets when she has a good idea, and that was that.

Makoto scribbles in the latest update, Akira assumes, but he can’t know for sure; she writes in code and shorthand that way it can’t be used against them if it ever falls into someone else’s hands. He thinks he can make out a shogi board in the margins, but the drawing is pretty shit and it could very well just be a smudge.

“With that out of the way,” Makoto snaps the book shut right when Akira concludes that it _is_ a shitty shogi board and is contemplating whether or not to tell Yusuke to help Makoto with her art skills. It’s for the team, probably.

“Let’s eat and continue studying, shall we? Most of us have exams coming up soon.”

She’s impervious to the chorus of groans and _no’s_ that ring out in the attic.

 

* * *

 

One study session later finds Akira helping out at Leblanc, hopefully endearing himself to Sojiro after pissing him off this morning. Goro sits in the stool across from him, looking as contemplative as he always does. It’s a familiar sight; they spend most of their time together in Leblanc, where Goro puts down most of his walls and Akira curbs his knee-jerk reaction to say the right things whether he means them or not, and they meet in the middle.

“The police station is a warzone,” Goro says when Akira places his coffee in front of him. He takes it with an obscene amount of sugar and milk, so it looks more like chocolate milk and has the side effect of making him look softer around the edges. But that last part could just be Akira’s feelings talking.

“Okumura?” Akira asks from behind the counter.

“Yes,” Goro sighs. “I’m not allowed to question him. The director claims that while I’ve done _more_ than enough in aiding the investigation, I am, and I quote,” He bares his teeth when he smiles. _“Too vulnerable to his manipulation tactics due to my age."_

“Oh, bullshit. You’re plenty good at manipulating people, I doubt anyone could manipulate you back.”

He gets a flat stare for his efforts, but Goro _is_ a manipulative asshole no matter how much Akira wants to hold his hand, so there’s no use in denying it. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’d probably call yourself Machiavellian and quote something from  _The Art of War_. ' _There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it.’"_

“I do hope your literary background is more substantial than _Harry Potter.”_ Goro is smiling his _it’s a wonder you’re still breathing_ smile.

Akira has had an immunity to that smile for as long as he’s known Goro, so all he does is grin. “You’re like a pretty Voldemort. Tom Riddle, Hogwarts years, no horcruxes.”

“And I suppose you’re Moaning Myrtle?”

“For you? I’ll moan as much as you want.”

Predictably, but still disappointingly, Goro does not say _yes, please do, thank you_ and fall into Akira’s waiting arms. He’s resigned to his fate as a distant admirer, and at least Goro turns a lovely shade of red and struggles not to choke on his coffee in his surprise. Riling him up isn’t as good as dating him would be, but Akira’s not delusional enough to think he’ll ever get anywhere with his favourite detective.

Now if his heart could get the memo and stop knocking around in his chest when he thinks about Goro smiling or tucking his overly-long hair behind his ear or laughing or — any of that, then Akira could finally know peace.

 _“All warfare is based on deception,”_ Akira quotes indulgently, because he’d rather change the subject on his own terms than get subtly rejected for the millionth time. “I’ve been known to read sometimes.”

“Have you?” Goro’s fully recovered and leaning forward, a small smirk on his face, and now Akira’s heart is doing the knocking thing again in a spirited effort to present itself to Goro in a bloody, pathetic mess.

More likely than not, Goro would just inspect it and write some information down before asking him to provide, in agonising detail, his full medical history so he can present it to Niijima-san and submit the heart into an evidence locker. No romance at all.

He shakes away the train of thought before he starts getting whiny about it (it’s already way too weird for him to feel justified getting sulky) and smirks right back. “Sure have. Behind this pretty face is an even prettier brain. I’m top of my class, you know. I get all F’s on every test.”

“F’s?”

“They’re short for fantastic,” he explains cheerily, tossing in a wink because he’s a glutton for punishment.

The ugliest snort escapes Goro before he laughs, all light and unguarded in a way he so rarely is. His nose wrinkles with it, not even a hand coming up to cover his mouth like it usually does whenever Akira gets lucky and tricks a laugh out of him. It’s a good look on him and he looks more like a teenager than he ever has, something young shining through even under all of his perfectly-ironed layers. It’s impossible not to laugh with him, though Akira’s already forgotten what was so funny in the first place.

“Ah, I needed that,” Goro confesses once he’s calmed down, his smile sweeter and softer than it had been before. “Thank you. Coming here and talking with you has a way of putting me at ease.”

Heart thrumming, Akira smiles back and says softly, “Anytime, Goro. I like having you here.”

Something shifts in the way Goro’s looking at him, and Akira…

The thing is, for all of Ryuji’s assumptions and Futaba’s teasing, Akira and Goro are honestly just friends. There’s nothing going on between them, though not for lack of trying — Akira started pining over him the day they met at Leblanc for the first time and hasn’t stopped since. He knows it’s not reciprocated, that Goro’s just happy to be his friend, and God help him, but Akira’s happy too. It’s not the same as dating him, but his friendship with Goro is not something he’d ever want to lose or jeopardise, even if looking at him sucks all the air out of the room and leaves him light-headed sometimes.

He _knows_ Goro doesn’t have any feelings for him, but there are times… Times like right now, times when the mood settles into something anticipatory, times when he looks at Akira like he — and Akira thinks that maybe there’s a little bit more to it, after all. A little bit more to their friendship.

It’s paralysing every time it happens, like sticking his finger into a light socket, and Akira stays rooted in place with his heart swelling with longing until Goro blinks and the tension pops like a punctured balloon.

But Goro’s veering off-script this time. He looks Akira in the eyes as if he needs to maintain eye contact to have all of Akira’s attention, and breathes, “Akira… I…”

Akira’s heart is beating so quickly that he’s half-afraid he’s going to pass out before Goro can finish what he wants to say. He keeps his mouth shut in part to keep the moment from breaking, and in part because his brain is all mush. The only thing he can think with any level of proper coherence is _please,_ and boy would that be embarrassing to say out loud.

It’s several seconds before Goro appears to gather the nerve to continue speaking, but he opens his mouth again, so hesitant that Akira’s reluctant to breathe in case it scares him off —

And then Goro’s phone rings, loud and electronic. The moment snaps, of course it does because it _always_ does, and Goro shakes his head.

“Goro,” Akira starts desperately, already beginning to yearn for what he’s lost.

“Never mind.” Goro goes through his pockets calmly, trying to find his phone, and flashes him one of his television smiles. Akira would rather be punched than have one of those directed at him. “It wasn’t especially important.”

Before Akira can think of anything to say (and he has no idea what to say), there’s a click from Goro answering his cell phone. To give him privacy and to sulk a little bit, Akira heads over to the sink and starts washing the dishes. If he scrubs some of the plates a bit too violently, then at least nobody else knows.

“I have to go,” Goro calls over the sound of the tap. “Thank you for the coffee and the conversation, Akira. I’ll talk to you soon.”

He’s gone before Akira can properly say goodbye.

“What did I do to deserve this, Mona?” he whines to Morgana as he crouches in front of him. Morgana blinks at up at him and meows, which Akira chooses to take as _I have no idea, Akira, you’re such a nice guy, Goro doesn’t know what he’s missing,_ and scratches the top of Morgana’s head just before his phone vibrates.

 

 **tiny gremlin:** lol wow

 **tiny gremlin:** your day just keeps getting shittier huh

 

Standing and flipping the café sign to closed now that Goro’s gone, Akira sighs. “Go get your mount instead of spying on me.”

 

 **tiny gremlin:** already got it bc unlike some of us i am FULL of good luck

 **tiny gremlin:** i wish your name had an l in it so i could make a joke abt you collecting l’s but some things just aren’t meant to be

 **tiny gremlin:** anyway fwiw he was definitely gonna confess to you

 **tiny gremlin:** me, mako, and ann saw crying out love last weekend so i'm basically a love expert now

 

"Today can't end soon enough," he tells her over the bugs she's placed around Leblanc, and doesn't check for her response. 

He doesn’t look at his phone again until it’s time for bed. Between cooking dinner, cleaning up the café, and finishing up what's left of his homework, Akira doesn’t have enough down time to bother. He’s never been much of a texter and adjusting to it has a pretty steep learning curve; he’s left more people on read (which is bad? apparently?) than he cares to count since he arrived in Tokyo.

When all’s said and done, sitting on his bed with a tired Morgana already curled into a ball and sleeping, he’s happy to see that he doesn’t have too much to catch up on. Some texts from Futaba, an invitation from Ann, and a few new messages from the Phantom Thieves chat. He contemplates reading them, but a jaw-popping yawn is enough to steer him away. He's useless like this.

He’ll check in the morning.


	2. DAYS TWO AND THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you very much for the kind responses....... it's been really motivating and heartening.

When Akira wakes up, it’s to the same lurching from yesterday.

“Again, Mona? Seriously?” He’s prepared for it this time though, motivated to prevent another visit to the laundry machines, so he gets himself out of bed and plops Morgana onto the floor in record time. He wheezes for a few more seconds, making the same pathetic face, but whatever's in his throat comes out pretty quickly.

It’s another hairball of about the exact same size as yesterday’s, somehow. Akira frowns at it, puzzled as to how the hell Morgana has managed to store that much fur in his stomach, but at least his sheets have been spared.

“Are you alright, buddy?” he asks with a pet to his cat’s head, but all Morgana does is walk downstairs and leave Akira to clean up the mess, so he’s probably fine.

“Kid,” Sojiro calls. “Get outta bed before you’re late for school! It’s already eight o’clock.”

 _Not again,_ he thinks for the second time, and sprints downstairs for the cleaning supplies.

 

* * *

 

It’s a close call, but Akira makes it to school on time. Kawakami-sensei doesn’t try to eviscerate him with a look when he slides into his seat, and Ann isn’t paying him much mind, so he takes the small successes for what they are. Just about anything is better than yesterday.

…Except just a few minutes into the lesson, and Akira is nearly positive that they already covered this topic. He flips back in his notebook to make sure since he hadn’t exactly been paying as much attention as he should have, only to find that he doesn’t have any notes from yesterday at all.

But the thing is, he _remembers_ taking notes; they were shitty and he ended up getting help from Makoto because of it, so where are they? Flipping through all of his books like a maniac doesn’t hold any answers and he jolts when his phone buzzes, a side effect of the building adrenalin that he hadn’t even been aware of. He takes a few measured breaths to avoid a panic attack and tries his best to block Kawakami-sensei’s view of him by hiding behind Ann.

 

**makogoro said do your homework (7 people)**

**Futaba:** hey jw but are we hanging out after school?

 **Futaba:** i have a raid at 19:00 at the latest and if i miss it then that's one less chance to get the mount that i want

 **Futaba:** and if i don't get it then i'm gonna be really mad!!!! ٩(๑`^´๑)۶

 **Makoto:** Please stop texting in class!

 **Goro:** I must agree with Makoto. Is it too much to ask for you to keep your heads down?

 

This is starting to really freak him out now. Akira scrolls up in the chat to get their messages from yesterday, but he can’t find them. The messages from Futaba about Goro are gone too, and now that he’s thinking about it, there were more messages last night. He’d slept instead of reading them right? He’s sure, he’s willing to bet money on it, but there’s no record that they existed at all —

And Akira checks the date on his phone.

 

**MON, 3 OCT**

 

“Kurusu,” Kawakami-sensei calls out like she did yesterday (which is today, again, which never happened anymore), but she sounds worried this time. “Are you feeling alright?”

Akira can feel everyone’s eyes turning to him, piercing like bullets while they see something he doesn’t want them to see when he isn’t ready for their looking, and he…

“I need to use the restroom,” he croaks, and walks out.

It takes him a minute to get there, and longer still to get his hands to stop shaking long enough to think properly. The knowledge that at least this Monday is a _different_ Monday is the only thing grounding him. Or, well, it’s the same Monday, but it’s going differently, so at the very least Akira isn’t stuck living in an exact loop of the same day for all of eternity —

 _Ouch._ He takes his hands out of his hair (when did they get there?) after they pull too hard and tear some strands out from the roots. The last thing he needs right now is to go bald, unless his body isn’t going back in time with him…?

“Focus,” he tells himself. He isn’t much of a planner, but he’s still a good leader. He can do this. “One thing at a time.”

First thing: Akira has gone back in time, but he doesn’t think anyone else has with him.

Second thing: He doesn’t know how long this will last — it could easily just be a second try instead of infinite retries like he’s been worrying about.

Third thing: His first Monday was shit. Absolute garbage. He’s in the unique position to change it.

Hell, he already _has._

Maybe today is his chance to fix everything. Akira’s already avoided messing up his sheets, pissing off Sojiro, and getting to school late. Maybe he’ll be able to get Goro to say what he wanted to say this time around, too. A few more seconds are all he needs, just enough time for him to get it out before his phone rings.

When he puts it that way, a second chance at getting the day right doesn’t sound too bad. He knows all the right things to say now more than ever. If Goro wasn’t going to confess, if Akira had read it all wrong, then at least he’ll _know,_ and he’ll be able to go to bed on unstained sheets when he mopes about it.

 

**THE GC AKC’S NOT IN (6 people)**

**Joker:** let’s meet up after school.

 

* * *

 

The meetup goes as smoothly the second time as it did the first, but the study session is different.

“You’re done already?” Makoto asks dubiously from across the booth, already looking like she’s itching to check his math for corrections. Akira just nods and passes it over. He knows it’s right this time, and he’s rewarded with a proud smile.

She’s even impressed enough that she asks him to help Ryuji, and even though Akira knows he’ll only be really good at the material today, he still soaks up the opportunity to be useful and do the right thing.

On top of making him feel useful, Akira and Makoto teaming up to help the others makes the study session go by faster than yesterday, so he has more than enough time to pre-prepare Goro’s coffee by the time he finally makes his way to Leblanc.

“Did you already have this on-hand?” Goro asks him, more confused than flattered like Akira was hoping he’d be.

“I heard about Okumura,” he replies, which is true enough. “I figured you’d stop by to get away from the police station.”

Goro sighs but seems to take him at face value. “You were correct, clearly. I suppose I’ve become predictable in that regard.” He takes a long sip from his cup, looking incredibly far away.

“I’m not allowed to question him. The director claims that while I’ve done more than enough in aiding the investigation, I am, and I quote,” He doesn’t bare his teeth this time, just grimaces. _“Too vulnerable to his manipulation tactics due to my age."_

“Oh, bullshit. You’re too good at manipulating people to get manipulated back. I know you’d probably call yourself Machiavellian and quote something from _The Art of War. ‘There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it.'_ But it boils down to the same thing."

“My literary background is more substantial than _Harry Potter_. _”_ Goro’s smiling one of his kinder smiles instead of his annoyed one, and the difference makes Akira trip on his words.

“Y-You’re like a pretty Voldemort. Tom Riddle back in Hogwarts years, before the horcruxes.”

“And I suppose you’re Moaning Myrtle?”

“For you? I’ll moan as much as you want.”

Goro turns the same shade of red, flustered just like he was yesterday, but he recovers much faster. Already, his eyes have turned searching while he leans closer to Akira, and the finger-in-a-light-socket feeling hits just as hard.

He ducks his head slightly, almost bashful, and breathes, “Akira… I’d like to ask you something, if I may.”

“Shoot,” Akira agrees with a nod, thinking about how much of a wonder it is that his mouth is working at all.

“Why did you start the Phantom Thieves?” is not the question Akira is expecting to hear. It takes him a few seconds to piece together between the whiplash of the way Goro’s shifted from teenager to detective and the way his own heart has dropped.

“What?”

 _“Why,”_ Goro asks again, more insistently this time. He's gained momentum in the seconds it took Akira to recover from his shock. “You must have known that the punishment if you were ever captured would be severe. An assault on your record is bad enough, but breaking and entering, theft, illegal hacking… Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies right through his teeth. By the way Goro huffs and shakes his head, Akira knows that he’s seen right through it.

“Akira —”

The phone rings. Akira thanks any god that may be listening and watches the conflict on Goro’s face morph into frustrated resignation, pulling his phone from his pocket and answering the call. The look on his face tells Akira to stay put, but he’s more than happy to ignore it and start washing dishes. The plates slip out of his shaking hands too many times, but it’s a repetitive task and keeps him from talking to Goro and figuring out what the hell to do now.

“I… have to go,” Goro calls reluctantly over the sound of the tap. Akira turns it on higher to drown out his voice more. “But we _are_ talking about this tomorrow, Akira.”

He leaves in a hurry like he had yesterday, so at least Akira knows now that he hadn’t been in a rush before because of him.

 

**THE GC AKC’S NOT IN (6 people)**

**Navi:** SO UH CODE BLACK

 **Skull:** WAIT WHAT

 **Skull:** NOBODY SAID NOTHIN IN THE OTHR GC??

 **Navi:** akc was @ lbln and asked joker why he started pts

 **Navi:** he already knew

 **Panther:** did he say he was gunna turn us in or anything???

 **Navi:** no he got a call and had to leave

 **Queen:** The police are going to be busy with the Okmr case for at least another few days, so I don't think Akc will have the manpower to launch an investigation against us just yet.

 **Fox:** **@ Joker** What do you believe our next course of action should be?

 

Akira's next course of action is quickly turning out to be jumping off of a bridge. He hits his head, very softly, against the wall.

 

 **Joker:** we'll meet up at the hideout and talk about our options tomorrow.

 

He mutes the group chat after that and trudges up the stairs into bed, appetite gone. Morgana is sitting on his bed, watching him from where he's stolen Akira's pillow.

"Mona, I'm very stupid," he tells him. Morgana sneezes and runs off, leaving him alone in the attic until sleep takes pity on him and sends him under.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up and hears Morgana lurching, it's a relief. This time travel thing is far more trouble than it's worth and Akira should have known better than to fuck around with it. This time, he's decided to just let everything happen exactly as it did the first time. Maybe the entire thing is supposed to be an exercise in being careful what he wishes for —  he wanted to repeat Monday so badly and find out what Goro was going to tell him, and some greater deity said, _Fine, take it._

He's humbled now. When Kawakami-sensei throws chalk at him, he takes it as his dues. She didn't even hit him that hard; the original Monday was fine. He takes the exact same notes, errors included, and leaves them for Makoto to correct later. It's not like she's disappointed in him, so what does it matter if he doesn't do the exact right things?

The conversation with Goro is a little bit harder because fear floods Akira solidly enough that it feels like it's taken a seat right next to him, but he manages. Haha, _Harry Potter_ jokes, longing looks that are probably just inquisitive ones underneath the mask, a loud ringtone, and a goodbye. Futaba's jokes about his shitty day, his own response something like  _You have no idea,_ because she doesn't.

Lying in bed and ignoring his texts like he did the first time around, he feels much more confident in his lack of interfering with the day.

"I'm sorry for messing around," Akira says to the ceiling. "I've learned my lesson and I'd be really happy to show it to you. Tomorrow. On Tuesday."

He goes to sleep with a touch of unease, but it's to be expected. He's just being paranoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should probably mention: the pts dont use any names (of people or locations) in their pt group chat. and yes, the pt group chat is called "the group chat akechi's not in". they've had a lot of close calls.


	3. DAY FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i really hope there aren't any errors in this. i'm a little distracted watching drag race

Akira wakes up early and well-rested. His phone happily informs him that it’s Monday, the third of October, and he nearly throws it across the room.

Fuck. What the _fuck._

“What do you _want_ from me?” he asks between gritted teeth, and holds a hand over his face to calm down. Breathing exercises, just like his mother taught him, and he takes his hand away after he reaches the number twenty.

His room is exactly the same, as far as he can tell from the early morning light. Morgana is asleep instead of throwing up, but he will later. Just like he did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. Just like he will for the foreseeable future.

The thought alone is depressing enough to get him on his feet and send him downstairs. It’s too early for the shop to open, so Akira makes himself a cup of coffee in the empty café for something to do with his hands.

 

 **akiwa :3c:** what would you do if you could live an entire day without any consequences?

 

Ann doesn’t take long to respond. She’s been trying to wake up early and do yoga recently to clear her mind or something. Akira admires her dedication, but early rising just isn’t for him.

 

 **annya owo:** ummm gud question

 **annya owo:** most ppl wuld probs rob a bank or smthn but i think id go sumwhr nice. sumwhr ive nevr been b4 u kno??

 **annya owo:** or mayb just walk arnd tokyo. theres so much tht i havnt seen HERE let alone another city or another country

 **annya owo:** y??

 **akiwa :3c:** i’m sick and can’t sleep, so i was just thinking about stuff.

 **annya owo:** do u want me 2 stop by aftr school n bring u anythin?? or just keep u company??

 **akiwa :3c:** no, it’s okay. i’d rather get over it on my own.

 **annya owo:** okok but if u need anythin lmk!!! feel better ♥

 **akiwa :3c:** ( ˘ ³˘)♥

 **annya owo:** (´⌣`ʃƪ)

 

* * *

 

Akira feels like the scum of the earth after lying to Ann, but a break from school sounds like a good idea. If he hears Kawakami-sensei’s lesson for the fourth time, he might actually lose his mind. He changes into regular clothes and heads out of Leblanc after feeding Morgana and brings him along on a whim. Morgana goes places with him more often than not anyway, and he likes the company. He hesitates when the temptation to leave his phone behind strikes, but settles for turning it off instead.

There are people everywhere when the morning rush starts. People bump into him with quiet apologies, groups of students run towards the subway stations, tired cashiers count bills from hungry office workers trying to have a small breakfast, and nobody spares him or his cat much more than a passing glance. One of the electronics stores he passes is playing the news on its display TVs; BREAKING: BIG BANG BURGER CEO ARRESTED FOR VIOLATION OF LABOUR LAWS, FRAUD… Some people take a second to read it, but most of them continue past, bigger and more pressing things to worry about than someone else.

It isn’t that he didn’t know any of this — he took the train to Yongen-Jaya to meet Sojiro and he takes it every day to school or some other obligation with one of his friends — but it feels… different, when he’s not in nearly as much of a rush as the rest of them.

Yusuke’s a people-watcher and Akira’s done it with him before in Shibuya, hours of time lost to trying to guess why this woman was yelling into her phone or those boys were loitering next to a bakery. This feels like that, but there’s more of a sense of isolation than there had been when he was sitting with Yusuke and sharing snacks from the convenience store.

He ends up at Inokashira Park by accident, and it isn’t exactly unfamiliar to him, but he thinks Ann would still approve. Morgana hops out of his bag as soon as he sets it down and coughs up the hairball (there it is, he’d been waiting for that), then curls up next to Akira on a bench, comfortable in the cool air.

“I don’t know what to do, Mona,” he confesses, tilting his head back to squint at the sky. At least he isn’t stuck repeating a rainy day. “Robbing a bank might be fun. What do you think?”

With what looks like all attitude, Morgana faces him and hisses at him, then hops away to chase some birds. They squawk at him when he pounces, dropping feathers everywhere and causing a bit of a scene.

“Fine, no bank robbery.”

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t end up doing much of anything. There’s a vendor across from one of the park entrances with really good taiyaki, so he buys one, and Morgana seems to have a lot of fun in Akihabara, where Akira finds a _Featherman E_ figurine for Futaba that he doesn’t bother buying yet because it’s all going to reset in a few hours anyway. At some point, it starts getting dark and Akira’s already close to Shinjuku, so he heads into Crossroads.

Lala-chan is there like always, a few regulars already seated and nursing their drinks (or, in one case: chugging it). She smiles when she sees him and gestures for him to come to the back, where she holds his face in her warm hands and tilts it around for inspection.

“You look sick, baby,” she tells him, blunt as always. “You’ve been out all day, I can tell just by lookin’ at you. Have you gotten into trouble?”

“No,” he lies because she wouldn’t understand. “Well, boy trouble. Sort of.”

“Ugh, _boys,”_ Lala-chan says with contempt. She cleans him up, brushing some leaves out of his hair and smoothing his clothes, and ushers him into stool while she messes with something in the freezer.

“Boys are awful, honey. Don’t let this one get to you. Did he hurt you?”

He shakes his head at her turned back, then realises how much of an idiot he’s being and says, “No. I thought he…” Akira groans at how maudlin he sounds. He’s supposed to be better than this, a sounding board for other people, and here he is venting about Goro (not even the time loop!) to Lala-chan.

“But he doesn't,” he continues with too much sharpness. “I think he just wanted information from me.”

Something slides down the bar towards him. He grabs it on reflex and blinks in surprise at the cream soda that greets him. When he opens his mouth to refuse it, Lala-chan’s hands are on her hips.

“If you don’t drink it, nobody will, and then I’ll just end up wastin’ some perfectly good ice cream.” There’s nothing he can say against that, and he knows that she knows that. “Would this boy happen to be a cute little detective? About your height, adorable brown hair that’s itchin’ for a pair of scissors?”

The melon soda combined with vanilla ice cream is good, but not good enough to stop him from reflexively swallowing too quickly at Lala-chan’s words and getting brain freeze for his mistake.

“How’d you know?” he slurs around the thumb he’s stuck against the roof of his mouth. It’s a miracle that Lala-chan doesn’t laugh at him.

“He came in a bit ago askin’ about you,” she says. “Looked worried too.”

Akira sulks into the float, feeling guilty even though he doesn’t want to. The Goro that he’s trying to avoid doesn’t exist anymore, and in his… _nonexistence_ is Akira’s friend, probably worried that Akira never showed up to school because Sojiro should have gotten a call from Shujin a while ago and Akira’s phone is still off.

“Are you sure he doesn’t care about you?” Lala-chan is asking, her voice gentle even though she has to know that Akira’s made a bit of a mess out of today.

The worst thing is that Akira knows the answer. “I know he does.”

For all of his tricks and everything he hides, Goro didn’t only befriend Akira because he was trying to take him down, or honeypot him, or whatever. Maybe the thought crossed his mind, because he’s nothing if not resourceful, but Goro isn’t like that. He isn’t _cruel._ He wouldn’t go that far, wouldn’t visit Akira after a long day or bet on who could win the biggest toys from the fair, if it didn’t mean anything to him. It took a day of distancing himself, but Akira’s sure of that now.

The question now is why Goro admitted that he knows Akira’s a Phantom Thief.

“It’s just complicated,” he settles on, rather than explaining everything. Lala-chan looks at him like she knows there’s more to it, but she doesn’t ask for him to elaborate.

“It always is.”

She leaves him alone for a while after that. He drinks his cream soda and talks to some of the regulars from the other side of the bar for once, asking Sato-san how his older sister is doing and laughing with Hamada-san when she tells a joke about her boss. It’s comfortable, something he wishes he had time for more often, but eventually, he finishes the float.

“Lala-chan,” he calls over the stereo playing soft jazz. When she turns, he continues before he loses his nerve. “Can I use the phone?”

“‘Course, sweetheart,” she says, and Akira’s in front of the landline in short order, pressing buttons and hoping they’re the right ones.

He’s rewarded on the third ring. _“Hello?”_

“Hey,” Akira greets. “I heard you were asking about me.”

The reaction is immediate; he can hear a few things clatter to the ground and some rustling from the receiver. _“Akira? Where have you_ been? _I had half the mind to tell Sojiro to file a missing person report! Do you have any idea how —”_

“I know, I’m sorry,” he cuts in, even though he knows that Goro hates being talked over. He checks to make sure that nobody’s listening (they aren’t), and takes a deep breath.

“How long have you known that I’m a Phantom Thief?”

It goes so quiet on the other end that Akira is half-convinced that Goro’s hung up on him in his surprise, not even the sound of his breathing to reassure him that the call hasn’t disconnected. He waits anyway, turning his head to watch the activity of the bar. Lala-chan playfully smacking a man on the arm, two women giggling in hushed tones with their bodies leaning into each other.

 _“Since the beginning,”_ Goro says in a strained voice. _“You’re my friends and I’m a detective, Akira. Of_ course _I knew. I knew the Phantom Thieves had to be Shujin Academy students as soon as the security footage from Kamoshida’s office leaked. You were a recent transfer there, friends with two of the most well-known victims and a hacker, and had a criminal record. It didn’t take much deduction after that.”_

“Then why haven’t we been arrested yet?” Akira asks. His head is already racing; Goro’s known the entire time, but he never did anything about it. He always knew, so why was he going to come clean about it (was? is? did? he needs to get out of this time loop soon) today, of all days?

 _“Because I —”_ Goro cuts himself off with a sigh. _“According to the official report, the suspects have been profiled as recent graduates of Shujin Academy who held a grudge against their former coach. They are young enough to be fuelled primarily by rage, but old enough to have enough free time to plan and execute their attacks against anyone who catches their eyes. At the youngest, they are students taking a gap year. You aren’t on their radar.”_

All of the air’s been sucked out of the room, leaving Akira reeling. The Phantom Thieves case is _Goro’s,_ so any lying on the report had to come directly from him. He and the others decided to keep Goro out of it because they didn’t want him to have to choose between his job and his friends, but it looks like he already has.

“That’s kind of romantic,” he says lamely, still missing his footing. He feels a smile growing on his face when Goro snorts.

 _“Don’t get a big head about it,”_ he says without any real venom. _“I could still turn you in at any time. I’ve answered your question, so it’s only fair that you answer mine. What happened today? Did someone ask you about the — I’m sorry, I have a call on the other line. Give me a moment.”_

If the clock at Crossroads is right, then it’s probably the call that Goro always gets and has to rush away afterward. It feels weird to have already lived this day three times and still not know what the phone call was (is?) about. So when Goro comes back onto the line and says that he has to go, Akira asks about it.

 _“It’s…”_ He’s reluctant on the other end for several seconds, but seems to give in. _“I shouldn’t tell you, but… It hasn’t been reported to the media yet, so it’s important that you keep this between us until then, okay?”_

So it’s something work-related. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promises.

_“Okay. Okumura... Okumura committed suicide in his cell. There’s more, but I really need to go now. Please go back to Leblanc. I’ll talk to you soon.”_

Goro hangs up without waiting for a response, which is just as well because Akira ends up standing there for about a minute, unmoving.

Okumura _died._ Okumura’s been dying, every single day, for four days now, and Akira had no idea.

 

* * *

  

Going back to Leblanc and getting chewed out by Sojiro for going missing seems pointless when the day’s going to restart at midnight, so Akira doesn’t. With a silent apology to Sojiro who, mercifully, won’t ever remember this, he stays at Crossroads and turns on his phone. It nearly shuts back off with the number of notifications that it has to load, but it suffers through somehow by the time Akira comes back from getting a glass of water from Lala-chan.

 

**THE GC AKC’S NOT IN (8 messages)**

**Boss (13)**

**annya owo (6) (27 messages)**

**makogoro said do your homework (100+ messages)**

**tiny gremlin (32 messages)**

**A. Goro (4)**

**[more]**

 

The flood of notifications makes him cringe. Thank god he’s not going to have to live with this for much longer, but the dread that fills Akira is unavoidable.  _You’re so fucked,_ his self-preservation sings. _Absolutely fucked._

But he isn’t fucked (probably. if the time loop ends today he's going to be so mad), so he swallows his anxiety and opens the notifications from the Phantom Thieves group chat. In three Mondays, he hasn’t read those either. They might be different this time, but if he has any chance of getting out of this time loop, he’s going to need as much information as he can get.

 

**THE GC AKC’S NOT IN (6 people)**

**Skull:** ik we’re worried about joker but plz tell me at least 1 of u saw the news

 **Panther:** i did

 **Panther:** i dont even kno what 2 say? i rly didnt think okmr wuld kill himself

 **Navi:** he prolly felt like he’d already put his family thru enough shame

 **Navi:** he has a daughter that goes to shjn so he might’ve wanted to save her from watching him go on trial

 **Navi:** i still think he took the coward’s way out tho. he abused, tricked, and stole from ppl for years. his vics deserved the opportunity to see him get convicted and he took that away from them

 **Fox:** It’s an unfortunate situation. As much as I’m loathe to admit it, the loss of a life still upsets me, though I’m even more distressed that Okmr decided to take someone else’s life along with his own. The additional bloodshed was unnecessary.

 **Queen:** It was. S implied that all manpower has shifted from PTs to Okm's case, so I think we should meet up and discuss what that means for us as soon as Joker comes back.

 

Wait. Okumura killed himself _and_ someone else? A quick Google search gives him the answers he needs and Akira frowns while he reads the first article he sees, ignoring the texts that keep popping up.

Okumura Kunikazu had been in police custody and between interrogations. Nothing has been reported about his disposition yet, but he’d apparently disarmed his guard, shot him, and then shot himself in the head. The second investigator was the one to find them, unnamed by the police department. Everything else seems to be speculation, the police haven’t said much else.

The clock's ticking closer to midnight by the second. Akira watches it and thinks maybe he's going to need some help with this, before the world tilts on his axis, kaleidoscopic and nauseating, and... pops, in a way he isn't entirely convinced is supposed to happen, and it's Monday again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> betcha thought romancing the boy was the way out of the time loop. that will happen too, but it's not the key


	4. DAY FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no mysteries get solved today i'm sorry (-ω-、)

One minute Akira’s sitting at Crossroads, counting down the seconds until midnight while a drunk business woman sings a pop song off-key, the next, he’s falling onto his ass in the attic of Leblanc, Morgana hissing in his sleep from his corner of the bed.

Part of him is interested to note that he’s still in the shirt and jeans that he was wearing yesterday. Which is in the future, later today, he guesses, confusing himself about this time stuff all over again. He really needs to stop thinking about it.

He takes a trip to the bathhouse to get cleaned up — he’s been at the park all day, so he’s hardly clean anymore — and then… sits on his bed.

He asked Ann what she’d do if she could do anything without any consequences, but at the time, it still didn’t felt real. Sure, he understood that he could in an abstract sort of way, but it didn't strike Akira until now, all at once, that he can do whatever he wants. Anything in the world. Rob a bank like he joked about. Go on a spending spree. Get drunk for the first time and kiss a stranger.

What he should _probably_ do is come up with a plan that will help him figure out why he’s stuck reliving today over and over again, but he doesn’t even know where to start with that.

In the grand scheme of things, it won’t make a difference if he spends a day doing whatever he wants, right? By the time twenty-four hours are up, it won’t have ever happened anyway.

Akira goes to sleep with a half-formed idea and a healthy dose of nihilism. It’s the best he’s felt in days.

 

* * *

 

Morgana lurches on his sheets when Akira’s halfway through getting dressed. For a second, he almost rushes over with his arms poking out from the top of his shirt, but ends up letting it go and leaving his cat to it.

“You know, Mona,” he starts conversationally. “When this is all over, I’m never letting you sleep on my bed again.”

Morgana hops off of the bed and walks downstairs with more dignity than he has any right to have after five days of hacking up hairballs, not sparing him a glance.

Akira follows him a handful of minutes later. Leblanc is empty aside from Sojiro and the older woman who does crossword puzzles some morning, but the smell of curry and coffee is comforting. He stands at the foot of the stairs and takes a second to just watch everything; the low sounds from a television that neither Sojiro nor the woman pay any mind to, Morgana walking around in the hopes of finding something entertaining, Sojiro preparing Akira’s favourite coffee blend.

“There you are,” Sojiro says. He grabs a plateful of curry from where it was being kept warm on the stove and places it in front of Akira’s usual seat. “Hurry up and eat before you’re late for school.”

“Yeah. It’s already eight o’clock,” Akira replies quietly, thinking of all of the Sojiros from previous Mondays. The first spoonful of curry is something like coming home after days of skipping breakfast — and has it already been days? It feels like longer and shorter simultaneously.

“Good to know you can still tell time,” Sojiro deadpans with a shake of his head, but there’s no real malice to it. He crouches down when Morgana rubs himself against his legs and pets him until the cat starts to purr. Akira hides his smile and eats his curry before Sojiro snaps out of it and gets prickly with him.

“Boss,” he calls out before he leaves, hovering at the threshold. It feels like forever since he’s been at Leblanc like this, but it can’t have been more than a few days. To Sojiro, it hasn’t been any time at all.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

Sojiro makes a disgruntled noise, mumbles something like _‘not gonna let you starve’_ and Akira closes the door behind him with a flourish.

 

 **K. Akira:** goro, do you have school today?

**** A. Goro:  ** ** Not today, no. I’ve taken a day to go through some documents and catch up on my work. 

****

**** A. Goro:  ** ** Why do you ask? Is there something you need?

****

**** K. Akira:  ** ** cool. meet you in maihama in about an hour and a half? 

****

**** A. Goro:  ** ** Excuse me? 

****

**** K. Akira:  ** ** i’m going to need some impulse control. preferably someone cute who speaks like he ate a thesaurus. 

********

**** K. Akira:  ** ** if not, i might get up to something dangerous. maybe even… illegal. 〣( ºΔº )〣 

********** **

**** A. Goro:  ** ** What are you talking about? 

************ ** **

**** A. Goro:  ** ** Akira?? 

************** ** ** **

**** K. Akira:  ** ** sorry, getting on the train. i won’t have service for a while! 

**************** ** ** ** **

 

**************** ** ** ** **

Once he’s seated, his phone buzzing non-stop in his pocket, Akira tosses his head back and laughs, full-body, and lets the train whisk him away.

**************** ** ** ** **

 

**************** ** ** ** **

* * *

**************** ** ** ** **

 

**************** ** ** ** **

Goro’s already in front of the station by the time Akira arrives. He’s irritated and trying to hide it by scrolling through something on his phone, but he’s dressed casually — for him, anyway.

**************** ** ** ** **

“Nice sweater vest,” Akira says by way of greeting, sliding up beside him. Goro scowls once he registers who’s speaking to him. He steps forward and Akira backs up on reflex, but Goro doesn’t stop until he’s in his personal space and giving him a smile that’s all teeth.

**************** ** ** ** **

“What the _hell,”_ Goro enunciates in a hushed undertone. He’s being careful not to start a scene. “Are you doing? I’m meant to be working and _you_ should be in _school,_ Akira. I know you aren’t so stupid as to not realise how poorly skipping school reflects on a delinquent with a criminal record.”

**************** ** ** ** **

None of that really matters, so Akira brandishes his phone like a lifeline and shows him the screen. He can see the light from the display reflected in Goro’s eyes, which narrow in his confusion.

**************** ** ** ** **

“What am I meant to be looking at,” he asks flatly.

**************** ** ** ** **

“Tickets! We’re going to Destinyland.”

**************** ** ** ** **

“Have you completely lost your mind? We are _not_ going to Destinyland —”

**************** ** ** ** **

 

**************** ** ** ** **

* * *

**************** ** ** ** **

 

**************** ** ** ** **

“Care to tell me why we’re at Destinyland?”

**************** ** ** ** **

Destinyland was the subject of a lot of Akira’s fantasies as a kid, when he would listen to his classmates brag about going on vacation and visiting the park over school breaks with their parents and try to piece together the snippets on his own until they turned into a full picture. It had a layer of mysticism in his head, a place where the food was perfect and magic oozed out of the air in all directions, somewhere he could go one day if he impressed his parents just right. He spent days working out the perfect itinerary to visit all of the places he was most interested in, curled up on his bed with print-outs of the park maps and scattered sheets of paper.

**************** ** ** ** **

All of that work, and now that he’s finally here, he’s more than content letting Goro drag them around. For all of his protests, Goro had gotten a sparkle in his eyes as soon as they passed by the Star Wars theme area and they’ve been here ever since, with Akira nodding indulgently at the appropriate parts of Goro’s enthusiastic ramblings. It’s not what he always thought it would be, but he’d be a liar if he said he isn’t enjoying himself.

**************** ** ** ** **

“Because I finally lost it,” he says while he tries on different themed headbands; the red one is more to his tastes, but the blue one has cute bunny ears. “My brain and good sense have melted all the way out of my ears. Maybe I never had a brain at all, just a big ball of mush going through the motions for my entire life.”

**************** ** ** ** **

“Akira,” Goro presses, unyielding, but it’s hard to take him seriously when there’s whipped cream on his nose from the crêpe he’s eating. “I mean it. I… appreciate you inviting me out, I do, but needless to say, the manner in which you chose to do it raises several questions — if you’ll recall, I still don’t have my phone.”

**************** ** ** ** **

It’s true. Akira pick-pocketed it while they were walking into the park to keep him from rushing off because of any phone calls.

**************** ** ** ** **

“I wonder where it went,” he says with no attempt at sounding innocent, then pays for his headband and sits at a bench. Predictably, Goro takes the seat next to him, still waiting for a response.

**************** ** ** ** **

Greatly put upon, Akira shrugs. It feels more defensive than it should. “I want to say that I had a really good reason and that I planned this whole thing out. I know you like that kind of stuff, the security and the thoughtfulness and all that. But honestly?”

**************** ** ** ** **

It’s painful to be this transparent, even about something that doesn’t matter in the long run, even though Akira’s the only person who will ever remember any of this. But if he can’t be honest like this, when the consequences don’t matter, then he never will. And he wants to be honest more than he wants to shape himself into something more palatable to trick Goro into liking him. They’re not at Leblanc, but he doesn’t want to rely on neutral ground to force them into being something resembling themselves.

**************** ** ** ** **

Enough that he says, despite the nervous way he pulls on his fringe, one part uncomfortable and one part tired, “I woke up this morning, and I wanted to do something, and I wanted to do it with you. That’s it.”

**************** ** ** ** **

“I see,” Goro says, and there’s enough unfamiliar depth in his voice that Akira can’t tell if he means it. The uncertainty makes him itchy and anxious. He’s squirming with the urge to take it back or do something dramatic to cut the tension and make Goro laugh, or frown, or do _something_ other than stare at the concession stand like he’s thinking about something else entirely at a place Akira can’t reach.

**************** ** ** ** **

The hand that takes his is a surprise. Warmer than his own, even through the gloves, and firm around their interlaced fingers. Akira turns his head around so quickly that he’s worried about whiplash, but Goro still isn’t looking at him. There’s a telltale flush to his cheeks. To both of theirs, he’s sure.

**************** ** ** ** **

“I still think you’re being irresponsible,” he says primly, then softens again entirely, pulling on their linked hands until they’re both upright. “But it would be a shame if we didn’t make the most of the day.”

**************** ** ** ** **

They get on every ride they see, from the teacups _(“Must we?” “It’s a staple of Destinyland, Goro, of course we have to!”)_ to the coasters _(“I would have never expected you to be afraid of heights.” “Why’s that? Is it because I_ fell _for you —”),_ and take turns buying snacks and souvenirs along the way. Goro gets into a groove in the middle of one of the sci-fi sections of a souvenir shop and Akira listens to his spirited rant about the parallels between Star Wars and modern politics for fifteen minutes before the dirty looks from the workers grow too pointed to be ignored. In a fit of solidarity or candy overdose, Akira returns the favour by going on about his childhood fascination with Robin Hood.

**************** ** ** ** **

It’s probably one of the best days he’s ever had, and that’s not even taking into account the fact that between how their hands end up linked more often than not and how they end up smiling at each other with genuine affection at the most inconsequential times, it feels like one of the best _dates_ he’s ever had. Goro bumps shoulders with him too many times to be accidental.

**************** ** ** ** **

Before either of them realise, it’s gone dark enough for the fireworks to start. They startle at the first pop, too absorbed in their debate about whether Cinderella’s dress was blue or white, but the shock quickly melts into mute awe. Akira squeezes Goro’s hand, Goro squeezes right back, and the two of them start climbing up onto the benches like inconsiderate teenagers in an attempt to get closer, giggling every time one of them loses their footing.

**************** ** ** ** **

In the middle of it all, with Goro’s eyes locked onto the fireworks, he hears him whisper so lowly that he barely catches it, “It’s perfect.”

**************** ** ** ** **

And the vehemence with which Akira thinks, _Almost,_ is so strong that he nearly says it out loud. Nearly makes him hold the side of Goro’s face and lead him into a kiss and force both of them to address the elephant in the room, because _that_ would be perfect.

**************** ** ** ** **

But all Akira does is hold Goro’s hand tighter, shift his eyes back onto the show above them, and smile. Even when the clock strikes midnight and the evidence of this ever happening is erased, Akira will remember it. Akira will remember it, so it still _matters._

**************** ** ** ** **

It isn’t perfect, but it’s enough.

**************** ** ** ** **

 

**************** ** ** ** **

* * *

**************** ** ** ** **

 

**************** ** ** ** **

They go their separate ways at Goro’s transfer stop, sleepy and subdued but still satisfied, and the happiness follows Akira all the way home. Leblanc is already closed — Goro had been considerate and told both Sojiro and Shujin that Akira was helping him with an investigation before he met up with him at Maihama, so he doesn’t have to avoid his own bedroom for another night  — and he finds, for the first time, that he doesn’t mind walking in to find an empty home, even Morgana gone with either Futaba or Ann.

**************** ** ** ** **

He falls into bed and spins around the Loki charm dangling off of his phone, thinking of Goro, until he drifts off with his hand still wrapped around it.

**************** ** ** ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are we in cheesy romcom territory yet
> 
> thank you again so so much for the positive responses. i didn't expect the response that it's been getting and it's... really sweet to see. i smile like an idiot every time someone comments or leaves kudos so. thank u from the bottom of my heart


	5. DAYS SIX - ???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is LONG compared to the others i'm so sorry... there's a lot of talking and actual plot though! if that's your thing. it's not proofread beyond a onceover tho i'm so sorry. i've been writing since noon and it's 20:20 rn.... i'm too hungry

Something poking Akira in the most displeasing sort of way is what wakes him up. He feels around for it blearily, still exhausted from the Monday before, until his fingers catch the edge of something pointed and metal. When he turns around to investigate, the Loki charm is still hanging innocently from his phone. Is the time loop…

With a pounding heart and a tangle of emotions too complicated to pin down, he turns on the display and…

 

**MON, 3 OCT**

 

No. But then, why does he still have the charm? Is it because he fell asleep with it in his hand? Briefly, he entertains the idea of taping money around his body to take through loops. He doesn’t especially _need_ money, but it would be nice to have more without busting his ass at his part-time jobs, and it’s not like his parents are going to send him any.

The money would probably be considered counterfeit though. Any money he brought with him would have an exact serial match somewhere in Tokyo, and Akira’s pretty sure that isn’t legal. Still, it’s a nice fantasy.

That’s when a second thought comes to him, more upsetting than the last one. He has a memory of Destinyland and the physical reminder to prove that it happened even after it’s been written over, but Goro doesn’t. Goro remembers the Akira who took the entire group to the arcade in Shibuya on Sunday and promptly got his ass kicked by Futaba and Makoto, and while that’s not exactly a _bad_ thing — Akira distantly remembers Sunday and he thinks he had a good time — it isn’t…

Akira doesn’t know if he’s the same person that he was on Sunday. He thinks he’s changing, every Monday, without anyone to bear witness. Eventually, he might not be recognisable at all, and then what?

The thought makes him more lonely than he wants to think about, so Akira and Ann go shopping to chase it away. It’s sunny in Tokyo and Ann is more than happy dragging him around to cheer him up through some retail therapy with Shiho. They pick outfits for each other, some joking and some serious, and wind down by getting conveyor belt sushi and talking about how Ann and Shiho got together. His face hurts from smiling when he pictures a younger Ann, in love for the first time and terrified, trying to kiss Shiho at the top of a ferris wheel only to smash their noses together and start crying in her embarrassment.

After that, he spends a day with Ryuji and Yuuki, playing the voice of reason to their shameless flirting with girls around Shibuya and steering them to the diner when they inevitably strike out. By accident, Ryuji says, _I bet gettin’ guys’ numbers would be a hell of a lot easier,_ and before he can get nervous and take it back, Yuuki replies, painfully awkward but still completely earnest, _If you’d… wanna do something like that, we can play wingman for you next time,_ and Ryuji looks between them with something sparkling behind his eyes when he whispers, _Thanks._

Makoto is next, with a trip to the arcade that she invites Eiko to. They don’t stand a chance against her in the shooting games, even when they team up and try to cheat by distracting her, but it’s all in good fun. They talk about graduation while Akira tries his luck at the claw machine, bonding over their anxiety. It’s nothing groundbreaking or reveletory, but Akira finds that he likes that.

He and Yusuke go to the planetarium again, then the art museum, and then they both go with Futaba and Goro to Akihabara and watch them nerd out over _Featherman_ merch before getting into a passionate conversation about the new trailer. Then he goes out with Futaba alone, just the two of them walking around Harajuku like tourists. Then there are days with Shinya at the arcade, days with Iwai and Kaoru in Inokashira Park, nights helping Yoshida with his speeches, afternoons with Takemi, and Chihaya, and Ohya, and Sojiro, until he wakes up one Monday, looks at the calendar, says, “Day —”

And stops, because he can’t remember. He can’t _remember_ , so he loses that day writing everything down, day by day like he does in his probation diary, scrambling every time something from one them is lost to him. When he’s too exhausted to keep his eyes open that night and passes out at his desk, he’s almost positive that he’s on day fifty-five.

The list is gone in the morning and with it goes his certainty. Is it day fifty-six? Fifty-five? It’s terrifying to know that he can’t ever find out, and for the first time Akira doesn’t feel free, or liberated, or anything warm and fuzzy or nihilistic and uncaring. He feels well and truly _stuck_. It’s not exciting anymore, having all the time in the world to spend with his friends when none of them will ever remember having done it. It’s a curse.

Leblanc’s walls feel like they’re closing in on him, dark and dusty, isolated from everyone else in the world who might care about him, and his vision is going hazy and tunnelled, he doesn’t know what to do, but he can’t stand to be here for another minute.

He throws on some clothes, jumps high enough that he clears the entire flight of stairs, and hits the ground running.

  

* * *

 

It’s drizzling when he gets off of the train, as expected, and he pops open his umbrella before he leaves the station, looking around at storefronts as he walks and trying to see how well they match up with his memories. Some people recognise him and give him a wide berth as he passes, no doubt wondering what’s brought him back here, but he’s gotten pretty good at ignoring them by now.

“What are you doing back in Inaba, Kurusu?” the clerk asks when he’s reached his destination. There’s an edge to his voice, identical to the ones that everyone had with him before he left Inaba. Like he’s a loose cannon or a problem child, unruly and dangerous.

“I’m here for my parents,” he replies. He knows they’re working today. They haven’t changed their schedules since he was a child.

The clerk makes a face like he’s swallowed a lemon and Akira’s prepared for a fight about this, but duty overrules his desire to be difficult and all he does is page his parents downstairs. In short order, they both come down — looking like they’d rather be anywhere else, but they’re still here.

His mother puts her hand at the small of his back and guides him into the break room without a word, while his father walks just out of step with them, like he’s trying not to make it obvious that they’re together. It’s almost nostalgic, exactly like old times.

Akira sits, but they don’t.

“You should be in Tokyo,” his mother says in a polite tone, waving her coworkers out of the break room and pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Is there a reason why you’ve come back?”

“I don’t know,” he says, because it’s true and his parents have never liked when he lies.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to come back here, somewhere he isn’t supposed to be and isn’t wanted. All he knows is that he needed to run, and this is where his feet stopped moving.

“You took a two-hour train ride for absolutely no reason?” his father asks, barely masking his frustration behind a light tone. It’s exactly like he remembers. Even after months of separation, Inaba never changes.

“Maybe I missed my parents,” he guesses like it’s an inside joke.

They level him with a look that’s half disappointed and half annoyed. With what appears to be herculean effort, his mother puts a smile on her face.

He gave up trying to be what his parents wanted back when he was falsely convicted of assault and they told him in exasperated tones, _That’s what you get for not minding your business. In this world, Akira, the only person you should protect is yourself._ Sometimes he doesn’t think he’s their child at all, just a stranger who shares their features that they’ve raised out of obligation.

“If you’ve taken the time to come here, it’s only reasonable that you make yourself useful.”

They put him to work printing out forms behind the front desk, his head kept down to avoid anyone recognising him. The annoyed clerk from earlier takes to ignoring him rather than exchanging heated barbs, which is a bit of a letdown, but Akira finds that he doesn’t mind the repetitive task. It’s mindless enough that he doesn’t have to think about time loops at all, just moving from form to form and filling the paper tray as needed.

He spends the entire Monday in Inaba, sharing a tense dinner with his parents and standing in his old bedroom with the uncomfortable feeling of intruding, like he’s a stranger in his own home. This bedroom doesn’t have dust in every abandoned corner, or a stuffy feeling that doesn’t abate even after opening the windows. But neither does it have the hamaya from Yusuke; the idol poster from Ann; the ramen bowl from Ryuji; the kitten clock from Goro.

The walls are still decorated here, posters and souvenirs from adventures that Akira partly remembers, but as he goes to sleep wishing for the greenish glow of the star stickers at Leblanc, none of it feels like his own.

 

* * *

 

When day fifty-seven or fifty-six rolls around, Akira wakes up earlier than he has in a long time and absolutely _needs_ to do something useful. Anything at all, something that will make him feel like he’s putting effort into getting out of this time loop, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he’s going to lose his fucking mind. He grabs his phone and scrolls through his contacts, the Loki charm hanging off of it solidifying his resolve.

 

 **attic trash:** futaba, are you awake? there’s something i need to talk to you about.

 **attic trash:** it’s important.

 **tiny gremlin:** ye i’m awake

 **tiny gremlin:** do u want me to come to leblanc orrrr

 **attic trash:** please.

 **tiny gremlin:** k be there in 10

 

She makes it in six. She’s still in her pyjamas, tacky Star Wars print that he thinks he can see glowing faintly in the dark, and her hair’s tied in a messy bun at the top of her head, loose strands hanging around her face.

“What’s up?” she asks, pulling up a chair from the corner of the room and plopping herself into it.

“You’re not going to believe me, but I swear I’m not playing a prank on you,” he prefaces, and Futaba sits a little more upright when she hears the heaviness in his voice. “I’m stuck in a time loop and I’ve lived through this exact Monday fifty-five or fifty-six times now.”

Futaba makes a perfect O with her mouth and takes in the information for several heartbeats, during which Akira revels in the relief he feels after finally saying that out loud. She might not believe him at first, but having someone to share the burden with makes him feel lighter. Futaba’s one of the smartest people he knows and he’s confident that if anyone can help him think of a way out of this, it’s her.

“Anyone in their right mind would think you’re totally crazy,”  she’s saying, sitting cross-legged now. “But lucky for you, I’m a recovering agoraphobe who’s been waiting for some freaky time stuff to happen to me ever since I saw _Neo Featherman R_ as a kid. And full offence, but this would be a really lame prank.”

“You believe me?” he asks. “I thought I’d have to prove it.”

“Ugh, spare me. How would you even prove it, anyhow? By spilling Past Futaba’s secrets to me? Anything she told you was in _confidence,_ Chromie, I’m not gonna let you violate her trust like that.”

She drops the joking tone after a few seconds and adds, “Besides, today feels weird, like I’ve done it before. Not like _this,_ obviously, but I look at the date and I see it’s the third of October, and I keep thinking, ‘huh, it feels like it’s been the third for a long time.’ So if you’re telling me that I’m right and my subconscious isn’t garbage? I’m gonna believe you.”

With Futaba’s admission comes a terrifying question: if she’s beginning to get some déjà-vu, has anyone woken up and fully _remembered?_ Has Akira, in his desire to avoid accepting his circumstances, trapped other people in the time loop with him, conscious of what’s going on and helpless to stop it? Or is he _one_ of them, another person trapped in someone else’s time loop and fruitlessly trying to get out of it?

“Akira, you look like you’re gonna be sick,” Futaba warns loudly enough to cut through his thoughts. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. It’s not helping you. What you _should_ be thinking about is what’s been the same through every loop. If you’re stuck because something has to happen, then the thing you have to change will be in every loop.”

It’s reasonable and better than panicking, so Akira nods and grabs some paper to write down what he can remember. He hears Futaba come in and out while he writes, placing food in front of him and quietly playing on one of her handheld consoles. At some point, Morgana throws up on his bed without Akira’s interference.

“Gross, Mona! Does he do this every time?” she asks, and pulls a face when Akira nods. “Your Mondays suck, dude.”

It takes a few more minutes after that, mostly because Akira’s memory isn’t perfect and he was actively trying to avoid noticing anything about the time loops for a while, but he does finish, passing the paper over to Futaba.

“Okay,” she says after a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully on a candy that seems to have materialised out of thin air.

“I think we should start with the biggest one first. A time loop is pretty serious business so it’d make more sense if something big caused it, and Okumura dying in prison sounds _really_ big, so let’s start with that. He has a daughter that goes to Shujin, Okumura Haru. Try to talk to her today and see what info you can get out of her.”

“What am I supposed to say to her?” he splutters. “Can I even make it to school, what time is it?”

“Not if you keep asking questions. Let’s go! _Sojirooooo,_ take me and Akira to school! He’s finally done doing sidequests and if we don’t hurry, we’ll miss the story mission!”

“Futaba, what in the world are you talking about?”

“No time to explain! Go, go, gooooooo!”

“H-hey! How did you get my car keys? Get back here — !”

 

* * *

 

Sojiro driving him to school means that Akira is definitely on time. He steels himself with Futaba’s double thumbs-up once he gets out of the car and starts searching as soon as he makes it to the school gates. Futaba showed him a picture of Okumura in the car, so he knows to look for short brownish hair and decorative tights. He’s not sure if she’ll be here at all, since her father gets arrested today, but he figures it’s worth the try.

His efforts pay off faster than he expected; Okumura is carrying some heavy planters up the stairs on the second floor. Akira walks to her as quickly as he can without alerting her, mindful of scaring her off and having to do this entire thing all over again.

“Okumura-senpai!” he calls when he’s close enough. She turns her head in a rapid blur of motion, nearly dropping the pots she’s balancing in her hands.

“Y-Yes, kohai?” Okumura tries with eyes like flashlights.

Now for the hard part. Akira still doesn’t know what to say. “I - I just wanted to,” he starts. Her father’s been arrested by now, right? He’s pretty sure of it. “Check up on you. It must be hard to come to school when you’re worrying about him.”

The pots really do drop this time, ceramic shattering against the tile floor and dirt jumping up to cling to her shoes and bright white tights. Several students turn to stare at them, whispering rumours that Akira knows he’s better off not hearing. Okumura doesn’t seem to notice any of it, her brown eyes locked onto Akira’s with an intensity that won’t let him look away.

“You’re stuck too,” she breathes, and pulls him up the stairs by the hand without waiting another second.

Muscle-memory and reflex are the only things that keep Akira moving instead of falling face-first onto the floor. His mind is racing with questions  — how long she’s been trapped like him, if she knows anyone else who is, how she hasn’t gone crazy yet when her father’s died every single day for so long that Akira can’t even narrow down the precise number — but there isn’t any time for it when she’s pulling him onto the roof and shutting the door behind them.

There are planters here with small plants growing from the soil, free to stretch up towards the sun without getting obscured by buildings. Okumura sits down in front of one of them and gestures for Akira to do the same, so he does.

“I’m very sorry to drag you here so suddenly,” she apologises, looking genuinely remorseful. “It was rude of me, but you caught me off-guard. I thought I was the only one in this loop for so long, and now that you’re here… I wasn’t thinking clearly. What’s your name?”

“Kurusu Akira,” he tells her. “You don’t have to apologise. I would’ve done the same if our roles were reversed.”

Okumura nods like she’s taking his words very seriously, and tends to the plants in front of her almost absentmindedly. “Fifty-seven days ago, I came up to this roof on the third of October for the first time and noticed that several of my plants were sprouting. I was so happy — I’m not supposed to grow plants here at all, but wealth and a good reputation make it simple to ensure that nobody pays me any mind. It’s soothing, knowing that your actions are leading to the creation of new life. Back then, I saw these seedlings and got excited thinking about what they soon would become. But in fifty-seven days, they haven’t grown at all.”

Finished with her task, Okumura doesn’t back away. She stares at one of the plants, small and insubstantial, like she’s looking somewhere else entirely, and averts her eyes to the skyline around them.

“If time were passing as it should, today would be the twenty-ninth of November, six days until my birthday. My father planned a surprise party for me, a trip to a perennial garden in France. I would have loved to visit and see how the native plants there vary from our own. Instead, every day, Father is killed by someone I do not know, somewhere I cannot seem to reach no matter how hard I try. I know that Father is a terrible man, but for all of his cruelty, he would never kill someone in cold blood. I want to save him, not only for myself, but for the victims of his crimes, and yet, even in a world of infinite days, I cannot manage it. In six days, it will be my birthday, but only in my own eyes. And now… in yours, as well.”

Okumura folds her hands neatly in her lap, finally turning her eyes back onto Akira. There’s a weariness to her that he can recognise because he can see it in himself, an exhaustion that sleep never manages to completely snuff out. If he’s tired, he can only imagine how bone-deep it runs for her.

“Thank you for listening, Kurusu-san. It was very kind of you.”

Akira’s shaking his head before he’s fully decided to do it. “You don’t need to thank me, Okumura-senpai. And just call me Akira. If we’re stuck together, then there’s no need for formalities anymore.”

With a hum, Okumura nods and offers him a smile. It’s beautiful, but Akira thinks it would be breathtaking if she wasn’t hurting so terribly. “I suppose you’re right! In that case,” she says, stretching out a hand for him to shake. He does. “You may call me Haru, Akira-kun.”

He and Haru exchange numbers and chat IDs shortly after, which brings his attention to Futaba’s messages asking how he’s doing with talking to her. After a moment of weighing his options, he decides it would be easier to just video call her, so he does, angling the phone so Haru can see her too.

“Akira!” Futaba answers immediately, still looking like she did when she came into his room hours ago. “Did it work? Did you find anything out about — guh…?”

“Hello, Futaba-chan,” Haru greets warmly with a wave. “This is Okumura Haru! It’s lovely to meet you, though the circumstances are not as fortunate as I would like. I’m trapped in the time loop alongside Akira, so I’m very happy to work with you in an effort to collapse it! I hope we can get along.”

Futaba makes a sound that’s disconcertingly similar to a gurgle. “H-Hi, Okumura-senpai… It’s nice to meet you too.”

“There’s no need to be so formal! Call me Haru, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Okay… Haru…”

“Is she alright?” Haru asks him worriedly in an undertone so the phone doesn’t pick it up.

Akira thinks she might be blue-screening. “Oh yeah, she’s fine.”

“If you’re sure…”

“U-Um! Anyways!” Futaba squeaks. He see hear her collecting the scattered fragments of her dignity. “I’m gonna try my best to help you and Akira get out of this. I probably won’t manage it today, but Future Futaba is even smarter than Present Futaba and she’ll pick up my slack as many times as she needs to. So don’t sweat it, alright? You’ll make it to Tuesday if it’s the last thing I do! For now, Haru, I need you to tell me what your Mondays have been like. Anything you can share, even if you don’t think it’ll be that important!”

Haru nods, steels herself with a deep breath, and speaks.

She coped with the first few loops a lot like Akira had: poorly, and with a lot of escapism. She robbed a bank where he didn’t though _(“I thought that bringing attention to myself would keep the killer from targeting my father, or at least bring me close enough to discern their identity. But I was incorrect.”)_ and recovered from the feelings of isolation a lot sooner than Akira had. She enlisted Makoto’s help at one point, both of them sneaking around the police station and collecting as much information as they could find.

Okumura Kunikazu gets interrogated in the basement, far out of reach of any possible interference that either of them could have provided by sneaking around. The rooms next to him are instructed to remain empty, and he dies at precisely 20:45 every single day — except when Haru blew up a gas station yesterday, pushing his death back by exactly one hour.

_(“You blew up a gas station?” Akira asks incredulously, trying to picture sweet Haru tossing a match over her shoulder and watching an entire lot go up in flames. It’s easier than it should be. Futaba whispers, starry-eyed, “So cool…”_

_“It was deserted,” she’s quick to clarify, waving her hands around in a panic. “I would never harm anyone just to help Father! I just thought that… perhaps the bank robbery wasn’t severe enough, and I was correct, though not enough to make a difference in the end.”)_

They take a break to sneak downstairs and get some drinks from the vending machines, which Haru insists on paying for considering that she’s filthy rich.

“Today, I found myself too disheartened to make another attempt at rescuing him, so I decided to visit my plants,” she says after a long drink from her water. “It’s rather lucky that you decided on today to search for me, Akira-kun. Who knows how long we would have continued to miss one another’s paths if you had not, or if I had found the strength to help him another time!”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Akira replies. “But Haru, you said your dad’s being kept in the basement. We should go to your house and see if your dad kept any documents, anything that might give us some clues about who he might be involved with.”

She nods and Akira thinks for a few seconds. “In the meantime, Futaba, do you think you can hack into the cameras? Whoever’s setting him up clearly doesn’t want any witnesses, but there has to be a camera somewhere down there.”

Futaba grins and starts typing something on her computer. She’s always happiest when she has a very illegal task to complete. “Oh _hell_ yeah I can. It might take a few hours, but I’ll get in there.”

“We’ll sneak out of here and go to Haru’s, then. Talk to you soon, Futaba.”

“Wait one moment! You’re a hacker?” Haru asks, sounding more curious than affronted.

“More than that, dear Haru,” Futaba replies, pushing up her glasses because she thinks it makes her look mysterious when it actually only serves to make her look like a huge nerd. “I’m a _Phantom Thief.”_

“A Phantom Thief!” Haru echoes, and Akira hangs up before Futaba gets the chance to brag.

Haru makes their excuses to the school staff (which is a wad of bills and a sweet smile, as it turns out) and they disappear into a limousine without much fanfare, Haru bouncing her leg and listening to Akira tell her about the Phantom Thieves’ exploits. It turns out she’s a fan, which is a weird thing to think about. Most people either don’t know who the Phantom Thieves are or consider them to be criminals playing God, so having a fan is a novel experience. Then again, most of Shujin Academy likes the Phantom Thieves for getting rid of Kamoshida, so maybe it isn’t as weird as it seems.

When they pull up to Haru’s apartment in Nagatachō, Akira tries and fails to mask his awe. She’s so rich that it’s almost like she’s from another world entirely, all western-style floor plans and sleek stainless steel appliances that look like they’ve never been used at all. Haru’s doorman (doorman!) is the only other person around the property, and before he knows it, they’re in Okumura’s office and going through his papers.

“I’ve been through many of them already,” Haru says, which is about as much as Akira expected. “I’ve managed to match them to genuine transactions through the company’s bank account, but there is a drawer…”

She crouches down to the bottom left shelf, which has a traditional lock and key holding it shut. “I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find the key for it. I’ve tried destroying it too, but it’s very well-made.”

Akira has a knee-jerk reaction to locks. If he sees one, he has to pick it; it’s been a trait of his, for better or worse, for as long as he can remember. He fishes into his bag, searching, and raises one of his lockpicks up for Haru to see when he finds it.

“Give me a minute,” he tells her, and bends down to crack the thing open. Eyes closed, he feels for the pins and gently sets them, one by one, until he hears the lock click and puts his pick back into his bag.

“Oh!” Haru gasps, and they both pull the unlocked drawer open.

The drawer is filled with invoices to Okumura from a man named Yamakawa Isamu, arranged neatly in reverse chronological order. They’re huge sums of payment, hundreds of thousands of yen, but the service listed is only _weed control._

“We don’t have a garden,” Haru tells him with a frown, running through the documents in growing confusion. She’s beginning to look discouraged. “I’m afraid I’m at a loss otherwise. The name is probably a fake one, as well.”

“Probably,” Akira agrees, because he doubts that Okumura and his conspirator would have made it this far while still using real names. As to who could be the real person behind the alias, though… He’s working on it. “But this is more than we knew before. Whoever Yamakawa Isamu is, he’s either connected with what happens to your dad or the one directly responsible.”

“You’re right,” she says, squaring her shoulders against her disappointment. She holds the documents tightly and runs her fingers over her father’s name written neatly on the top. “We have a name, and we have reason to believe that Father was requesting something illegal, something that he called weed control. It doesn’t answer any of my questions, but this is still very good.”

Standing slowly with the documents still in her hands, Haru looks at the clock on the wall. “Akira-kun, while we wait for Futaba-chan’s call… Would you like to have lunch?”

 

* * *

 

Lunch is something expensive that Akira can’t pronounce, but delicious. He and Haru spend a long time talking about things besides the depressing reality of living in a world made up entirely of Mondays, and he learns some things about her. For one, she’s extremely empathetic and a great listener, and she grew up on shows like Sailor Moon, always admiring their kindness and dedication to justice.

While the Phantom Thieves act with a little less legality, she still respects them for helping those who need it most. She’s a bloodthirsty terror in video games for all of her hesitance, taking down the zombies in the game Akira pulls up with more gusto than even Makoto (and he can see how she managed to sweet-talk her into their day of illicit activity at the police station).

She asks about him with just as much interest, laughing at his jokes and offering him a sympathetic smile when he talks about his visit to his parents yesterday. When she asks about how he met his _boyfriend,_ Akira turns such an alarming shade of red that she worriedly fetches him a glass of water and asks him if he’s alright, but he catches a hidden amusement from her in seeing him so flustered.

“Is Akechi-kun not your boyfriend, then?” she asks, a paragon of innocence. “Please forgive me for the assumption. You speak of him so fondly…”

“Haru,” Akira whines, muffled from the hands covering his flaming face. “He doesn’t — It’s not _like_ that.”

“If you insist,” Haru says, sounding greatly put upon. “But I believe it _could_ be that way, if you wanted.”

Before he can disagree with her, his phone rings with Futaba’s special tone. They both sober in an instant and Akira answers quickly.

“Okay, so it was a _little_ harder than I thought it would be — which is super suspect, because I’m way better at this than the damn cops — but I did it!” Futaba pauses like she’s waiting for applause before she remembers the circumstances and continues with a sheepish laugh.

“The cameras in the interrogation rooms were all empty except one, so I think that one’s Okumura’s and they turned off the camera. _Also_ super suspect. There’s at least one camera in the hallway that I can see from the elevator cam, but that one’s shut off too. I saw Goro and Makoto’s sister go down there, but I lost sight of them for about ten minutes before they called the elevator again and went back upstairs. Some guards have been rotating shifts too, but there’s nothing else yet. We still have about… two hours, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get a good look at any suspects from the elevator cam — A whole bunch of people who went down there haven’t come back up yet.”

Haru seems to think through something, then reaches for the documents on the coffee table. “Thank you very much. Futaba-chan, do you think you would be able to track down the identity of a man with the alias Yamakawa Isamu? Father has been making payments to him and I believe the key to identifying his killer lies in uncovering his true identity.”

“Yamakawa Isamu?” Futaba repeats, and Haru nods. “Okay, yeah, I can do that. I don’t think I’ll be able to get what I need before midnight though, so this is where I’m gonna have to hand my slack over to Future Futaba. She’ll have like, way more time to get past all of the obstacles that Current Futaba doesn’t have enough SP for.”

A wave of disappointment hits both Akira and Haru, but Akira can’t say he’s surprised. They’ve done a lot today, and Futaba’s been awake since at least four o’clock this morning. Knowing her, she probably didn’t sleep the previous night at all — it’s a wonder that she hasn’t crashed yet.

“You’ll do great,” Akira assures her, and feels a sharp sensation of fondness when she blooms under the praise. “Thanks for your help, Futaba. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Later big bro,” she replies, and ends the call.

In the quiet, Haru’s leg begins bouncing again. “Akira-kun,” she starts. “Do you trust Akechi-kun?”

“With my life,” he says instantly.

Haru nods to herself and looks back down at the documents, their most solid clue yet to Okumura’s killer. “I’d like to sleep now, before the worst comes to pass again. Tomorrow, though, I believe we should tell him like you’ve told Futaba-chan.”

Akira can’t say the thought has never occurred to him, but he’s surprised to hear her suggest it. She doesn’t seem particularly trusting and he respects that about her, but untrusting people don’t tend to be the ones to suggest adding people to their inner circle.

As if she knows what he’s thinking, she adds with a displeased turn to her lips, “I won’t lie and say that _I_ trust him or that I’m happy to propose the idea, but Akechi-kun is a detective. More than that, he is a detective with significant skills and sway within the police department. If I am to save my father, I will need someone on the inside to provide information that you and Futaba-chan cannot.”

It’s reasonable, far more reasonable and levelheaded than Akira thinks he’d be capable of after living through the death of someone he loves every single day, and she’s right. Goro is smart, and kind, and Haru may not believe in him, but _Akira_ does, and maybe that’s enough.

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” he tells her, and Haru doesn’t exactly soften, but she does look relieved.

They say their goodbyes shortly after, both promising to contact the other as soon as they wake up, and Akira gets driven back to Leblanc by another limousine, drowsy and restless simultaneously. Sojiro isn’t there when he walks inside, probably bringing dinner over to Futaba, and Akira’s prepared to get into his pyjamas and fall asleep when his phone buzzes.

 

 **A. Goro:** Good evening. I visited Leblanc earlier to invite you in person, but Sojiro-san informed me that you were busy helping Futaba with something.  
**A. Goro:** Would you be amenable to going to a sushi restaurant tomorrow evening? My treat, of course.

 

This is new. Akira wonders what, across the network of differences that happened today, made Goro send that. It'll never happen, at least not tomorrow, but Akira still smiles at his phone like an idiot.

  
**K. Akira:** sounds like a date.  
**K. Akira:** i’m in.  
**A. Goro:** Akira, you are insufferable.  
**K. Akira:** (─‿‿─)♡

 

His phone vibrates one more time, but Akira is already fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full disclosure i ran out of time during my first playthrough so i didn't get to max out haru's confidant link and i haven't unlocked her for my ng+ yet. i hope her voice and demeanour still work for you!!!
> 
> edit: WOW I WOULD HAVE DOUBLED THE WORD COUNT IF I HAD TYPED OUT HARUS EXPLANATION LIKE I NEARLY DID. WOW.


End file.
